Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 595

"If there's another life, let's part without hard feelings, each finding their own joy."

"From now on, no more sightings, Maggie, be at peace."

Brett's mind was haunted by these words, the dry bloodstains and tear trails on that yellowed diary vivid in his memory.

Izabella had a choice between rebirth and oblivion, a divine decision laid before her.

Brett chose rebirth, always wondering if he could change something if he went back to the start.

So, he was reborn in the year he turned seven, the year his parents died in an accident.

He could change many things, like his parents' fate, or perhaps meet Izabella sooner.

But what he didn't expect was that in this lifetime, Izabella would truly not walk the earth again. Was it because of him? Or for her family, or to avoid repeating past mistakes?

Phrases like 'rekindling old flames' and 'mending broken mirrors' always sound so beautiful, but reality taught him that even if you go back to the beginning, a mirror destined to break will still shatter; there's no such thing as a perfect resolution.

So why did he think that if everything reset, she would be there?

Blood oozed from his bitten lip as Mr. Windham pried Brett's mouth open to inspect, "What in the world happened?"

The car window rolled down, letting in a breeze tinged with the chill of a summer evening, causing him to shiver.

Winter's warmth and summer's breeze, the spectrum of human emotions - he could feel them all, yet Izabella would not in this lifetime.

Even the ordinary cycle of night and day had one less person to witness it.

In his past life, he sat in a rocking chair, feeling the warm sun and cool breeze, watching shadows fade away, a ring slipping from his fingers, believing he had let go.

People are greedy, longing for what they don't have. Even given a chance to save his parents in this life, he still couldn't help but covet Izabella's presence.

The ludicrous thought of meeting Izabella earlier... how laughable.

His tear-streaked face dried in the wind as Brett, clutching his mother's hand, croaked, "I'm alright now..."

When Mr. Windham heard Brett's heart was aching, he was truly frightened, and even now, hearing 'I'm fine' didn't completely ease his worry.

Mrs. Windham suggested, "We should still get you checked out at the hospital."

"Mom, Dad, I'm really okay. Don't worry about me." Seeing his mother's anxious eyes, he reached out to hug her; he still had his parents.

"You and your antics," Mr. Windham said, not quite used to such affection from his usually reserved son, but he ruffled Brett's hair nonetheless and asked, "Can you tell me why you went all the way to the Salotti family, and then to the amusement park?"

Brett simply said, "It's all in the past."

Mr. Windham didn't press further when he saw his son's reluctance to discuss it. After a visit to the hospital, which confirmed nothing but a slight fever, they returned to the hotel where Brett fell asleep, occasionally shedding tears from some nightmare, a sight that tugged at the heartstrings.

Waking after a full night's sleep, Brett acted as if nothing had happened, armed with memories of his past life and how his parents had died. He remembered the day of the accident vividly.

They were traveling from R City back to J City when the crash happened amidst a torrential downpour.

After wrapping up their business in R City, Mrs. Windham decided it was time to head back.

That dream had been washed away in his pursuit of fame and fortune, eroded by time in a world fixated on money. Who could truly rediscover the pure passion of their youthful dreams?

Mr. Windham smiled and said, "Your dream was to be a doctor."

His dream was to be a doctor, yet he died of lung cancer, a smoker to the end.

Isn't that ironic?

Brett laughed through tears as the car skidded on a sharp turn on the mountain road.

This was the place. His eyes turned cold.

A truck barreled toward them from the opposite direction, the driver froze in shock, but Brett, having already unbuckled his seatbelt, lunged forward and grabbed the steering wheel.

"Hit the gas, don't stop, Mom, Dad, duck down!"

The car was a total wreck, its original shape unrecognizable, the airbags deployed in a futile attempt to cushion the blow. Brett was thrown violently to one side, his head colliding with the car door, a searing pain radiating through his skull.

Blood clouded his vision, painting the world a crimson hue, and the nightmares of his past life seemed to collide with the present. The metallic scent of blood overwhelmed his senses, blurring them until he was slowly sinking into pitch darkness.